Nobody Loves You
by yararebird
Summary: It's Ben Harmon's birthday and nobody cares...except for the last person he wants to care. Music by Portishead.


It was the worst birthday he'd ever had.

Oh, sure Ben Harmon had had his share of bad birthdays like everybody else but… This one particularly sucked assholes. At least last year his daughter had remembered. She'd even made him a card. He stared at it now - open on the coffee table in his office. He knew that as ghosts, life seemed to lose all time. All meaning. So it had been all the more meaningful when Violet had written those simple, loopy words: _Happy birthday, dad. I still remember. Love, Vi_

So...had she forgotten this time? Or was she just distracted with her boyfriend Tate?

Ben sighed. He supposed he should simply be happy she was happy. That at least somebody in this house was happy. Because every other soul in the Murder House was the definition of miserable.

Or at least that's what he assumed. He sighed and flicked on the TV. It was a leftover. Like so many of their belongings. Previous owners now permanent residents.

Or maybe Billie had brought it. Who knew, really? At least there was electricity to watch the damn thing. Thanks to whatever weird...coven...owned the house now.

Unfortunately, it was the same bullshit on every channel. The idiot president. A misogynistic Cheeto puppet engineered by the Russians. Ben scowled and muted the box. He didn't need to hear the vapid Fox News drivel. Predictable lies. Disappointments.

Like so many other things.

Why was the afterlife so fucking boring?

Another button push whirred the little CD player to life. Another leftover played - one Ben actually enjoyed.

_Ohh..._

_Can anybody see the light_

_Where the morn meets the dew and the tide rises_

_Did you realise, no one can see inside your view_

_Did you realise, for why this sight belongs to you_

His hand drifted to his crotch. Toyed with the fly on his trousers. At least masturbation was still exciting.

When he could avoid crying.

Why was the afterlife so fucking lonely?

_Ohh..._

_Just set aside your fears of life_

_Thru this sole desire_

_Done it warning_

_Done it now_

_This ain't real_

_On in this side_

A soft knock on the door removed his hand from his hard-on. He zipped up, covering the sound with a throat clearing. "Come in." He was surprised - but not exactly pleased - at this visitor. "Constance. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The lady of the house (and he used the term lightly) lingered uncertainly in the door before closing it behind her. She touched at her coif. "I apologize for interrupting your ruminations, Doctor Harmon."

"Nothing to interrupt." He spread his arms, leaned back in his chair. Let the weirdness commence, he thought.

_To pretend no one can find_

_The fallacies of morning rose_

_Forbidden fruit, hidden eyes_

_Courtesies that I despise in me_

_Take a ride, take a shot now_

She took a few hesitant steps forward, paused beside the table. "I um...I wanted to um…" Her lips worked. She nibbled the bottom one. His cock twitched despite himself. "I wanted to thank you." That sugary accent daunted. Taunted. Even when it was trying to be sincere. And he did sense some sincerity.

"Thank me?" His brows quirked. "That must be hard for you."

"Don't be an asshole." And _that _was the Constance Langdon he'd come to know.

He chuckled darkly. "Sorry. I'm just confused. What are you thanking me for?"

The little smile seemed real enough. It was kind of pretty. "Tate. He came to talk to me last night. To really talk. He says you've been encouraging him to...repair our relationship." She gestured to the couch. "Can I sit?"

"Can you?"

_'Cause nobody loves me_

_It's true_

_Not like you do_

She sat. Produced a slim pack of cigarettes from her black and white dress pocket and lit one. "My, my. You _are _rather deep in the doldrums today, aren't you, Doc?"

"It's really not the best time, Constance." He wanted her to leave. As strangely pleasant as it was to have the company...it wasn't really the company he wanted. Or that's what he thought.

_Covered by the blind belief_

_That fantasies of sinful screens_

_Bear the facts, assume the dye_

_End the vows, no need to lie, enjoy_

_Take a ride, take a shot now_

"I can tell." She picked up the candy dish off the table beside her. Dumped the candy out unceremoniously. She propped her heeled feet on his coffee table. Crossed her ankles and rested the candy dish on her knee - now obviously an ash tray. "Care to talk?"

"I'm sorry. Are _you_ the therapist now?"

"I'm offering my ear for free." A graceful shrug.

She was offering an ear, so why was he looking at her legs? Wondering if those sheer black stockings were as smooth as they looked. "We have nothing to talk about."

"There's always something to talk about. Don't you tell your patients that?"

"Eavesdrop much?"

"No. I just know what head shrinks say." She gestured to the television. "You're all as sadly predictable and full of shit as our illustrious president there."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

_'Cause nobody loves me_

_It's true_

_Not like you do_

"Constance." He rubbed his eyes. "We don't exactly get along. Why are you doing this?"

"I'm bored." Her voice deadpanned. "Aren't you?" He chuffed. Couldn't argue. She took his reaction as agreement (it was) and invitation (it wasn't). "So. Gonna tell me what has you such an unconscionable sourpuss today?"

His head rolled back against the chair. Why not? "It's my birthday."

"Happy birthday."

"Oh, Jesus Christ." He shook his head.

"If I'd known, I would have baked you a cake."

_Ohh..._

_Just set aside your fears of life_

_Thru this sole desire_

_Done it warning_

_Done it now_

_This ain't real_

_On in this side_

"I appreciate the thought." His smile was bittersweet. "Seems like nobody knew."

"Or nobody cared."

"Even better."

"Nobody loves you."

He hated this woman. "Accurate."

"Me either."

"Are you trying to make me feel...happy?"

"Not possible." She shrugged. "Two miserable loveless sacks of shit such as ourselves…"

"Nice to know there's some common ground between us."

"After a while, they all run together. Birthdays." She blew a smoke ring. Blew another smaller one through it. "Unless you're young. Or retarded. Addie loved a goddamn birthday." She looked away.

"You're not making this any better."

"I didn't say I was gonna make it better." She put out the cigarette. "Did you have...a birthday wish?" At his disbelieving gape, she flicked her Zippo and set it on the coffee table. Her heels clicked onto the floor when she sat up. "It's no candle...but you can blow it out."

They watched the flame flicker together before Ben leaned forward in his chair, elbows on knees. His eyes met hers. The flame reflected in their brown depths, warming them. Warming him. He pursed his lips...and blew.

She pursed her lips too. Whispered. "Well now. Was that so bad?"

"Not bad at all," he whispered back.

"What'd you wish for?"

He grinned. Eyes slid to the TV. "An impeachment."

She laughed softly. "A true birthday wish. I'm sorry I can't deliver."

She was beguiling. She knew it. He didn't mind it. "I could've at least had a stripper."

She blinked. Ben's eyes narrowed. "Or...can you not deliver that, either?" This could go one of two ways.

Her chin rose. A strong chin. His nostrils flared. Since Constance was a woman who would never back down from a challenge, it went the way he never would have expected.

_I'm so tired of playing_

_Playing with this bow and arrow_

_Gonna give my heart away_

_Leave it to the other girls to play_

_For I've been a temptress too long_

First, she stood. Stretched slowly, arms raising above her head. Experimentally, she swayed to this odd, sultry beat. Ben's throat went dry. He should have stopped her. Called her bluff. But bobby pins started dropping. Her dexterous fingers released entirely unexpected blonde curls and he swallowed hard.

She wasn't bluffing.

_Just..._

_Give me a reason to love you_

_Give me a reason to be a woman_

_I just wanna be a woman_

She stepped briskly over the table, incredibly agile in heels that high. He looked up at her - blushing bright as a lobster - to find her smirking down. "Um -" She turned before he could finish speaking, back presented, and dropped like a pro. "Um…" He stammered again. Caught a whiff of her fragrant golden hair when she pulled it aside and he knew what was expected. With shaking fingers, he took hold of the dainty silver zipper pull. He was preparing to tug it down when her hands slipped back to grip his armrests. "Oh!" She slithered up between his thighs like a damn snake and the zipper simply traced down her creamy spine with every rising inch. "Shit," Ben muttered.

_From this time, unchained_

_We're all looking at a different picture_

_Through this new frame of mind_

_A thousand flowers could bloom_

_Move over and give us some room_

"Constance." His voice broke embarrassingly. "You don't really have to -" She whipped to face him.

Her hand on his chest hushed him - shoved him back into the chair. "I don't _have _to do a damn thing, Doc." Including hurrying, apparently. Because she was in absofuckinglutely no rush to be naked, lost to the music, turning away from him again. She peeled dress from her torso one agonizing arm at a time. It sluiced over the backless black slip like oil in a parking lot puddle, pooling around her gently shifting ankles.

The sight of a slim black bra strap across her otherwise bare back made him whimper. It'd been so damn _long…_ And the barest hint of matching lace peeked from the satin 'v' above her ass.

A very shapely ass.

If he'd known her body looked like that under those horrible dresses he might have - "Fuck!" She straddled him so quickly his head spun, chuckling like she did this every day. Instinctively, he reached for her waist.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Her firm hands settled his no-nonsense on the armrests before gripping the chair above his head. "No touchin' in the champagne room."

He groaned, watching her undulate. The slip rode up on her thighs, revealing wide lacy bands on thigh high stockings. "But...there's no champagne." A feeble argument.

Her eyes were shockingly soft when she looked down at him. She stroked his stubbled cheek so sweetly the caress brought tears to his face. "There's real pain, though."

_Give me a reason to love you_

_Give me a reason to be a woman_

_I just wanna be a woman_

There was definite real pain. His ghost dick ached in his ghost pants, eyes creased in agony. He could barely stand to watch her move like that. Touch herself like that. Roll her head like that. But he couldn't look away, either. Wouldn't. Not for an offer of mortal life again.

Unless he could use the rest of that life to fuck this woman.

Her fingers dallied with the hem of her slip. "Help me, Doctor?"

"Anything!" He grabbed the delicate satin, knuckles brushing silky skin as he pulled up - up. Their fingers tangled in mid-air a moment - aloft in black satin. He could see the quick rise and fall of her chest. A curl had caught on a shoulder strap, suspended like a spider web.

_So don't you stop being a man_

_Just take a little look from outside when you can_

_Sow a little tenderness_

_No matter if you cry_

"Constance." He let his head fall helplessly against her breasts. Perfect breasts. Beautiful spilling handfuls of edible flesh that would no doubt shake gloriously while he…

"Hmmm?" A little moan from her nearly undid him. She nudged the back of his head with her nose. He was staring at the low waist band on her rather small panties.

"Please." He gasped, nose just grazing a juicy curve.

"Please what?"

"Can I touch you?"

"_May _I touch you."

His jaw clenched. God, he hated the bitch, but: "_May _I touch you?" He gritted.

_Give me a reason to love you_

_Give me a reason to be a woman_

_I just wanna be a woman_

_It's all I wanna be is all woman_

"Oh, hell yesss." His hands slid down her arms swiftly, feeling goosebumps raise. Unashamed, he buried his face in between her tits, pushed them together as if he could suffocate himself.

"May I finish?" She asked, amazingly composed for a woman being manhandled. Her hands were already reaching behind her back, unhooking the strap there.

"Jesus Christ." As soon as the straps slipped from her shoulders, he took the bra in his teeth.

"Hold my hips, honey," she murmured in the shell of his ear. Ben didn't have to be told twice. He gripped her like she was a greased pig, eyes widening as she bent backward on his lap. Her back was a graceful arc. The bra hung loose from his teeth after she withdrew her arms. "Thanks." She rose resurrection style back above him. "Wanna help again?"

He was reduced to monosyllables. Grunts of affirmation. His mouth watered for the wicked woman. She eased off his lap, turning in his hands. Her fingers edged into painty waist, encouraging. "Hm?"

He pulled, opening his mouth against a plump, supple ass cheek. "Dammit, Constance."

"What's up, Doc?"

"You know damn well what's -"

"What you wanna do about it?"

"I - I wanna fuck you so bad."

She turned again. His mouth slid across her hip the whole time, ending up right where they both wanted it. She hissed, tangled hands in his hair. "Gonna cry while you do it?"

He growled into her wet cleft. "I hate you so much."

"Hate me all you want, just don't stop that!" A mewl of pleasure. Ben licked her decadently, sucked when she bucked. Squeezed her rear as if he wanted to hurt her. And maybe he did. She didn't seem to care. And maybe she was impervious to pain, anyway - but not passion. She gasped, losing balance on those precarious heels. "Enough!" She hissed, rubbing his jaw. "Stop stop stop…" She caught her breath, leaning a shaky arm against his chair back.

Ben rose, sliding his whole body against her. "One last birthday wish?" He took her head in both hands, threatening a kiss.

She spoke against his lips. "Far be it from me to refuse a sad birthday boy." Her fingers were unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping. Slipping inside.

"Guh…" His eyes rolled in his head. "Alright then." The little CD player had run its course. The silence made their passion quite audible.

A little yelp when he lifted her. Quick past the coffee table. He deposited her on the couch and slid between her raised legs, awkward with his pants and boxers bunched at his knees. He paused to stare down at her, though. Lust uglied his handsome features. "You're a gorgeous woman, Constance."

"Thought you hated me."

"I'm warming up to you." His hands fluttered up her thighs, over the stockings there. An odd thought flashed. "How do these stay up?"

"Magic." She reached up for him. He met her halfway. Her hand positioned him. "How does _this_ stay up?"

He cradled her head, watched her gasp and arch when he slid inside her. "For _hours,_" he promised.

"Well, it's your birthday, Doc. However you choose to spend it." Her nails bit into his shoulders. "Oh, _shit _that feels good!"

Actually it felt amazing. He began to thrust inside her slowly, deep rolling dips of his hips. "I think we've found a great way to get along, Constance."

"Your wife will be pleased."

"_Goddamn_, you're a bitch!" He picked up the pace.

"And you're an idiot." She snapped. "But I've found a delightful use for you so shut the hell up and fuck me."

He could live with that. Muffled his mating sounds in her neck. Her legs wrapped high around his waist until a stiletto poked his ass on every thrust. They quickly found they made love as well as they made hate.

And he didn't lie to her. It was _hours _before they were dressing, backs to each other as they gathered clothing from all around the room. Ben cleared his throat nervously, buttoning his shirt. "Constance."

"Hm?"

"Look." He sighed. "Honestly. This was the _best _birthday I can remember in...I dunno. Forever maybe." He flopped onto his chair.

"I'm flattered." She was straightening a stocking. They'd finally been shed about two hours in. Along with the shoes, surprisingly.

Ben smiled. "Ya know. It's as much a pleasure watching you dress as it was watching you undress."

"You've gone soft on me, Doc."

"No." He shook his head. Glanced at the TV. "Guess I've been lonely."

She paused, looking for an earring. Stared down at him. Quietly: "Me, too." Her hand hesitated before it touched his head, gently smoothed his tousled hair. "And...it was kind of exciting imagining the President watching us fuck."

Ben laughed richly. "Yeah, it was." He looked up at her. "Hard to hate you now."

"I'm sure I'll get you back to standard levels of hatred soon enough." She chuckled. "But I'm glad I was able to facilitate a more...acceptable birthday." She stepped into an overturned heel, clicked to the door.

"Constance?"

A tolerant turn. "Yes?"

"I still have five hours of birthday." He stood, hands in pockets.

She stared at him. "Seriously."

"Yeah. I mean. It's only seven."

"Oh dear god." She considered. Rolled eyes. Bit lip. Ben tapped his foot, watching her. Finally, a beleaguered sigh. "Fine. Meet me in my bedroom in an hour." She left him grinning like the idiot he was.

"Pssst." Constance crept into the kitchen, glancing about. "Violet."

The younger ghost appeared from the opposite hall. "Hey." She smiled, leaning against the coffee counter. "Wow. You look like -"

"Oh, shut the hell up!" Constance hissed hotly. "You owe me big time."

The smile turned to a grin. Violet opened a cabinet at her legs, producing a sizable cardboard box. "As promised." Constance rifled through the box. Full bottles of various whiskeys, bourbons, and Scotch. Two cartons of cigarettes. "It was a nice haul. Who knew trespassers came with open bars?"

"I earned every drop."

"No doubt."

The older ghost hefted the box with ease, leaving the kitchen. Remembered something at the last second. "And not a word about this to my son, missy!"

"Ew! Gross! Of course not!"

One final turn in the door. A face of patience. "And Violet?"

"Yeah?"

"I think a card would have been more than enough."

The girl shrugged. "I just really wanted him to have a special birthday this year."

"Mmhm. You have no idea." Constance grumbled, walking away.

"By the way…" Violet called up the stairs. Constance paused on the landing. "My mom's birthday is in four months and I was wondering if -"

"Fuck off."

Violet's brows rose at the final verdict. After Constance's door slammed shut, the girl leaned against a bannister, laughing until she shook. She tried to recover from her amusement as she pulled the birthday card from her back pocket, headed to her dad's office. Hopefully, he would be in good spirits now...


End file.
